Page 100 of When the Laird Conquers

In truth, Agnes was beginning to wonder when her father was going to move to the castle and never return to England.

Rather less impressed by the festivities was Aunt Tabitha, who stood off to the side with an expression of innate disapproval on her face. Although she leaned in every so often to speak to the young lady at her side, who happened to be Samson’s younger sister, Miriam. A shy, pretty thing who doted on her niece, as everyone who met Lizzy did.

I wish you could see this, Christine. I wish you could see that all is well, though we miss you terribly.

Agnes had already made sure that Lizzy would never forget her mother, telling her stories of Christine’s antics every night. Stories that Snout loved to listen to as well, before he draped himself over Lizzy like a living blanket, the two of them as thick as thieves.

At present, the sweet fox had been banished to the nursery after stealing half a pheasant from the feasting table.

“Do ye think anyone would notice if we went missin’ for a little while?” Gordon asked, his arm wrapped around her waist.

Agnes smiled up at him. “No, I don’t think so.”

“In that case…” He slipped his hand into hers and led her out of the lively chaos of the Great Hall.

They navigated the hallways together until the sound of the gathering was entirely muted by the thick stone walls, eventually coming to the door at the bottom of Gordon’s tower.

“Please tell me you aren’t expecting me to walk up all of those stairs?” Agnes laughed.

He smirked. “Of course nae.”

She realized her mistake as he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her up the stairs himself.

“You beast!” she cried, lightly smacking him on the back.

“I thought ye said I wasnae one?” he teased.

She laughed as best as she could with her ribs against his shoulder. “Yes, well, there are exceptions.”

Reaching the top of the staircase, Gordon set her down and, with an almost nervous smile, pushed open the door to the tower room.

A sea of candles flickered across the circular space, gathered around a painting that had been propped on an easel. The golden light of those beautiful candles shone upon a picture that Agnes had never seen before, though she had wondered why her husband was spending so much time in here of late.

Now, she understood.

It was a painting of them. Of their strange, wonderful little family, together in the gardens that she had spent hours toiling over, all of the new flowers in bloom. They were seated on a picnic blanket, Lizzy crawling to reach a glossy strawberry tart, Snout stealing away with a piece of egg, while Gordon poured a glass of lemonade for his wife.

Everyone was smiling, their eyes capturing their happiness perfectly.

“As ye can see from the sky, I had some help,” Gordon said, drawing her closer.

Squinting to see what he meant, Agnes gasped in wonderment. The clouds were not merely clouds, but exquisitely transformed footprints and paw prints.

“They’re both incredibly messy artists.” Gordon grinned. “There’s still white paint on the floor, and I doubt it’ll ever come out. Truth be told, I daenae think I want it to.”

Agnes pressed a hand to her heart as she turned to him. “It’s beautiful, my love.”

“It’s for ye.”

“It is… perfect,” she croaked, then paused. “Well, almost perfect.”

He tilted his head. “Is there somethin’ ye daenae like?”

“No, it is not that I dislike something,” she replied, her nerves rising. “Rather, it is something that is missing.”

He nodded as if he understood. “Ah, ye want to put yer own footprints in the clouds?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “No, my love.”